


Haircut

by thatwasamazing



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Barbershop AU (not the movie the real life setting), Don't copy to another site, Flirting, Fluff, Hair-pulling, Inappropriate Erections, Inappropriate barber Hannibal, M/M, Massage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Will Graham, PWP, Sexual Tension, Strangers to Lovers, Voice Kink, Will has anxiety, fantasies, public-ish, there will be smut, this is a bit silly, very mild scissor play?, will's empathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22222870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwasamazing/pseuds/thatwasamazing
Summary: Will needs a haircut.(ON HIATUS SORRY, I WILL RETURN TO IT WHEN I CAN)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 26
Kudos: 107





	Haircut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets a haircut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses what I did recently lol - this idea came to me as I was waiting to get my hair cut haha. 😅 
> 
> Once again this is one of my fics written over the span of a few days (when I should be working on my other projects oops) so it’s a little rough around the edges and quite silly. It was meant to be fluff but ofc me being me it got more smutty. 😂 Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! ^_^
> 
> Oh and sorry the Hannibal edit is kinda funky, I'm not the best at photo editing but I tried. 😅

Will Graham hates getting his hair cut. It’s bad enough having to interact with people for his job as an FBI profiler. The same excessive empathy that makes him a good profiler is the same empathy that makes him prone to seeing too much - not only about the crimes themselves but also the little stuff everyone has unintentionally on display. Insecurity. Trauma. Cheating. He doesn’t want to know - his own emotional baggage is more than enough, thankyouverymuch. 

Therefore every human interaction he has tends to bring too much unwanted intimacy with it. And the act of a complete stranger washing your hair, massaging your scalp, trusting them enough to have sharp objects near your head and throat as you close your eyes...all the while knowing things about them that you have no right knowing...no, it’s too intimate. The physical touch takes it to another level of uncomfortability, with truly no barriers between them. He hates it.

And so because of this, Will always procrastinates the inevitable. He waits as long as possible, waits until he gets at least one comment per day in his already limited social sphere about how shaggy his hair looks, before he finally relents and goes to have it cut. 

He goes to a different place every time, not wanting to risk having the same person twice. He hates it so much a few years back he tried cutting his hair himself but found he got even more comments about the poor quality of his haircut so he gave it up as a lost cause. He doesn't get enough sleep these days to be trusted with sharp objects near his head anyway. And yet the FBI has given him a standard issue pistol, despite him being declared _too unstable_ to become a true FBI agent...but he decides he won’t think too much about that right now.

Resigned that his fate this evening will be to get his hair cut, he pulls out his phone and googles places nearby that are open and then blindly chooses the closest one. _Dapper House Barber Shop_. _Sure, why not?_ He clicks again for directions and a few minutes later when he pulls into the parking lot, he is amused to see the salon’s logo is a stag with a top hat and bow tie. _O-kay._ As he walks up he sees it’s a little more upscale than where he's gone in the past but he decides it’s too late to change his mind just to save a few bucks. He's already here so he's not leaving until his hair is cut.

When he enters he is instantly greeted by a yell from someone cutting hair further back. There's a mounted iPad to check in which Will mentally concedes he doesn’t hate, if he’s honest with himself. One less social interaction. He sits down to wait once the Ipad says _You’re checked in Will!_ on the screen. 

A brief glance around shows he’s the only one in the waiting area and for that he's thankful. For a millisecond he considers getting a magazine but then dismisses the idea - he hopes he won't be waiting long enough to need one. He can see that there are three people currently getting their hair cut, and usually men’s haircuts don’t take very long. 

Will looks around the salon, making an effort not to look directly at the barbers themselves, after all he’ll get more than enough info about one of them soon enough. As his nerves start to make themselves known his leg starts bouncing and his fingers drum against his thigh. In response he tries to take deep breaths, reminding himself _it’s just a fucking haircut_ , but he’s not surprised - historically he always has to steel himself for these type of encounters. Absurdly he feels kind of like Elsa in Frozen, wishing he could put a glove over his whole body to stop his empathy from leaking out like she does for her ice powers. _If only it were that easy._

He's so lost in his Frozen thought he doesn't notice a man walk up to him until he is right in front of him. When Will does finally notice, he is face to face with said man’s apron. Will’s eyes travel up and up, and then up some more until he reaches the man’s face. _Wow he’s tall._ Will swallows. _And attractive_. The man looks a little older than he is, has soft golden hair that softly falls over one side of his face, lightly tan skin, amber eyes, a solid body, and a exotic look about him, and then-

“Will?” _Oh god his voice._ Will closes his eyes for a second. _Fuck. this guy could make a living as a phone sex operator! But oh god it would be a waste because he's gorgeous. What kind of accent is that? European of some kind… He must make a racket in tips..._ Will realizes said man is staring at him, waiting for a reply, so he gathers his wayward thoughts, feeling a flush climb up his cheeks. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“I’m Hannibal.” The man sticks out his hand and despite the fact that Will 1) hates physical contact and 2) hates eye contact, he looks into the beautiful man's eyes as he shakes his warm hand. The man’s fingers curl around his softly but firmly - his grip strong and skin smooth. Will notices the man smells of something familiar...what is that? It’s earthy and spicy...but also woody with a hint of fruit… _Frankincense_ , his mind supplies...he remembers his former therapist recommended the scent to help with stress and anxiety. He still has the bottle somewhere.

Will shakes his hand, all the while staring into his warm brown eyes, unable to look away. Out of habit he braces himself for the onslaught of unwanted input but to his surprise, not much materializes. Hannibal - _what kind of name is that anyway?_ \- is guarded but friendly. Open and yet hidden. Will detects a little arrogance, but not directed at him specifically. His overall character is hard to place. And there’s something...something hidden under the surface...but if Will stops looking for it, it's easy enough to forget. _Maybe this won't be so bad,_ he thinks, uncharacteristically optimistic.

Will tries to take his hand back to stand up but in the same moment Hannibal tries to help him by pulling him up with their joined hands - _fuck he’s strong_ \- so Will ends up awkwardly rising, still holding Hannibal’s hand, standing uncomfortably close to the man - closer than what any two strangers normally would. 

Out of reflex he averts his eyes but of course he can’t do the same for his nose and on his next inhale he gets a stronger whiff of the Frankincense smell emanating from the beautiful barber. _Oh god he smells good_. The proximity to such a gorgeous man stirs a hint of arousal in Will, his cheeks flaming of their own accord. Once he finally gets his feet under him he tries to step back, which if anything makes the situation more awkward since there's a chair behind him - the one he just got up from, causing him to wobble inelegantly. _Fuck this is embarrassing!_ Eventually he manages to step to the side and extract his hand, finally meeting the man's eyes again. He looks amused but doesn't comment other than to say,

“Follow me please.”

Will follows as requested, although quickly becomes distracted by the barber’s incredibly fine ass. _Those pants can't be comfortable for as tight as they are,_ he thinks. When they get to the chair Will climbs in awkwardly, the motion reminding him of the many reasons he hates getting his hair cut. _Just because he has a pretty barber doesn't change the nuts and bolts of this experience_ , he thinks sadly, just as his chair is pumped up to elevate him and the weird smock thing is wrapped over him. All of a sudden it’s like he has no arms - it feels ridiculous, another loss of control.

“So what are we doing today Will?” Will tries to suppress a shiver at hearing his name said in that dulcet, sensual tone. The upside is he is momentarily distracted from feeling like a human badminton birdie in this getup.

“Uh, just a haircut,” he says and then mentally kicks himself as he sees Hannibal smile at him in the mirror, amused again. _Duh._ So he tries again. “Uh, a trim to uh clean it up. I wear it curly like this… just...shorter,” he finishes lamely. _Fuck why can’t hair salons have a menu with the terminology of different things?_ He hates this.

“Alright yes I believe I can do that. May I?” the man asks, coming around the front of the chair, holding out his hands near Will’s face. Will cranes his head to look up and instinctively nods, surprised when the man gently removes his glasses, folds them, and puts them on the counter. Another barrier down, yet he doesn't feel as upset as he thinks he should because a moment later the gorgeous man is back behind him, running his warm fingers through his curls - it’s incredibly pleasant. He moves them this way and that, pulling them straight by pinching them between his fingers, assessing length and whatever else it is that barbers do. It feels nice and Will is surprised that for the first time he doesn't feel uncomfortable having a stranger touch him this way. Maybe it’s because he still can't get much of a read on this man, _Hannibal._ Just vagaries. Which is nice. Some mystery among strangers is normal.

“Okay, let's get your hair washed,” Hannibal says, and Will slumps his shoulders for a second _. Fuck_ , he forgot about that part. 

“It that necessary?” Will asks, hoping they can just skip it and move on to the cutting. He's enough of a pessimist that even though things aren't bad _right now_ , he's sure they will be bad _eventually_ , and he would still rather be out of here as soon as possible. Plus his dogs are waiting for him at home, so on all counts the sooner he can leave the better. Hannibal looks at him for a moment and for the first time he can recall Will feels exposed, as if _he_ is the one being seen...profiled. It’s an odd feeling. He waits as amber eyes scan over his person before Hannibal seems to come to a decision and says,

“It’s not necessary but I recommend it. I can cut it dry if you prefer, but it may be uneven. Washing it will allow me to easily pull it straight. Curls never curl the same way, so if I cut it dry, when you wash it next it may look quite different. If you're okay taking that risk I will do it.”

Will processes that information and then sighs. “No it’s fine, let’s wash it.”

In response Hannibal nods and walks to the washing station. As before Will follows, although is disappointed to realize now Hannibal’s delectable ass is blurry from his lack of glasses. He sits where indicated and feels his head guided down by Hannibal's surprisingly strong arm. His neck is then cradled on a soft towel, and he feels one of Hannibal's hands remain, cradling his head. 

Will closes his eyes, knowing from experience that he hates this part. It's so intimate, having someone wash your hair. It’s something a lover would do, not a stranger. He hears the water be turned on and waits for the discomfort to come and is surprised when it doesn’t. Somehow being held by Hannibal feels secure and comfortable, and when he feels the first warm spray of water rush over his hair he allows himself to relax a little.

“How's the temperature Will?” Hannibal asks. Will jumps a little, started since the sultry voice comes from _much closer_ than he expected. The words are said in nearly a whisper, and so close Will feels his breath against his ear, causing him to suppress another shiver. _Fuck his voice is sexy._

“It's good,” he says, keeping his eyes shut as he tries to keep his voice neutral. Soon after, the relaxing scent of lavender fills his nose, presumably from the fancy shampoo, as Hannibal gently washes his hair, massaging his scalp in the process. From the first brush of Hannibal's fingertips against his scalp Will is on edge - but for a different reason than he usually is. _Fuck that feels too good._ He almost groans in pleasure but instead lets a large gush of breath out of his nose. It’s _never_ felt like this before. He feels like his head is getting a sensuous massage rather than a rough vigorous scrubbing like it usually does at places like this. The touch makes him feel treasured, precious. And turned on. _Fuck._

As the massage continues Will loses track of time, caught between intense pleasure - tingles flowing from his scalp down his spine and spreading to his entire body - and trying to maintain decorum. After an indeterminate amount of time he is forced to shift in the chair, subtly placing his hands in his lap under the smock, trying to hide the beginnings of an erection. 

Hannibal must mistake his shifting for discomfort because the next thing he knows Hannibal is whispering, “Almost done,” in his ear and Will holds back a moan - Hannibal’s voice serving to hitch his arousal up even higher. Shortly after the scent in the air changes to something clean and sterile smelling, but Will can’t place what it is, presumably coming from the conditioner that Will suspects is currently being massaged into his hair. 

“What is that scent?” Will asks, curious and trying to distract his mind with non-sexual thoughts.

“This conditioner contains tea tree oil which, among other things, is an excellent moisturizer for the scalp in addition to the hair, while also preventing an excess of oil buildup on the scalp,” Hannibal says softly as he continues to tenderly cradle Will’s head, slowly working the conditioner through his hair. Will occasionally hears the wet squelchy sounds as it is massaged into his hair and tries very hard to not think about how similar those sounds are to having sex. He is not successful as he feels his cock continue to thicken in his pants. 

“Mmm hmm,” Will says, aborting his attempt at a nod and not trusting himself to say anything more. The conditioner is more slick than the shampoo was, which causes Hannibal's hands to glide over his head with ease. In the process he feels his neck getting massaged as well and it's heaven - pure bliss - and he just barely manages to hold in the euphoria. _Fuck._

His cock is now more than halfway hard and he is just wondering if he should fake having to use the restroom when he feels the warm water return and the conditioner being washed out. Knowing the end is in sight, he tries to relax and finds the feeling of water to be quite soothing and peaceful. At the end some water splashes onto his face and he is surprised that subsequently a soft towel is dabbing at it. In reaction his eyes fly open and he sees blurry Hannibal looming over him.

“Sorry about that,” the sexy voice whispers to him.

“It’s fine,” Will manages to reply, feeling his cheeks flush at how close their faces are. For a moment he thinks Hannibal is going to kiss him, and lord help him he knows he wouldn’t stop him if he did. 

However, instead Hannibal pulls back and a moment later a towel is placed over his head and he feels Hannibal's strong hands forcing the water from his hair. Then once again, Hannibal’s arms come around him and easily guide him to sit up. The show of strength makes his interested cock twitch but he tries to ignore it, now appreciating the stupid smock he wears, but just to be safe he keeps his hands in his lap. 

Once the towel is put away and he is led back to the chair, damp curls falling over his face. He sits again, hands still over his lap to keep the smock elevated. He is thankful for his hand placement a moment later when Hannibal's hands run through his damp curls, spreading them out which feels just divine - it’s almost as if his fingertips spark electricity into his body, fueling the fire of arousal within him. Lord he's not sure how much more of this he can take - as it stands he’s already envisioning finding a discreet place to jack off on the way home. He honestly doesn't think he can make the forty-five minute drive home in this state, as tightly wound as he feels. 

He didn’t even realize he had closed his eyes until Hannibal's voice is back, a little louder this time, and more conversational in tone. 

“Not a fan of eye contact are you?” he asks innocently. Will’s eyes fly open, staring down Hannibal’s in the mirror blurrily.

That tames Will’s arousal a bit as he bristles, feeling defensive, saying, “Eyes are distracting... you see too much...”

“Do you suffer from excessive empathy, by chance?” Hannibal asks him calmly, tone curious, watching him in the mirror.  
  


Will’s mouth falls open in shock, staring at the blurry figure of Hannibal behind him. That’s _exactly_ what his therapist told him after his deadly force encounter back when he was a cop. But that was _after_ four mandatory therapy sessions. How could this barber know that? Who even says that, let alone to a stranger? _There goes his tip, I don’t care how great his ass is,_ Will thinks.

“Excuse me?” Will says angrily and Hannibal's hands pause in his hair.

“Often people with empathy disorders have difficulty with eye contact for that very reason. It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's a double edged sword, both a gift and a burden,” Hannibal says matter of factly, continuing to watch him curiously. 

Will is sure his mouth must be flapping like a fish so he makes an effort to close it, feeling his face flush and his blood pressure rising, not sure if he's embarrassed or angry or both. His body language must give something away though because Hannibal's hands fall from his hair and they stare at one another.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I was a psychiatrist in Lithuania where I was born. Unfortunately when I moved to the U.S. my credentials were not recognized. I could have gone to school to get them again but instead I took it as an opportunity to follow a passion I never would have dared to otherwise, hence me becoming a professional stylist, where my gift for perception and advice can still be used. Because of this I understand perception… it’s a tool that’s pointed on both ends. I’m sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off. Maybe that was tasteless of me to bring up, I’m sorry.”

Will digests the wave of information, _psychiatrist. Of fucking course._ Of course he would find the one hair stylist in probably all of the United States who just happens to be trained as a psychiatrist, it’s just his luck. He begrudgingly admits just to himself that it is impressive that Hannibal pinpointed his issue so quickly - after all it took his other therapist about a month. On the heels of that thought Will then wonders if maybe that's why he can’t get a read on Hannibal, maybe he knows the mind well enough to not subconsciously give away information like others do? 

“It’s alright, just keep it professional,” Will says, tentatively calming down. 

“Or we could socialize like adults, god forbid we become friendly,” Hannibal says, winking at him in the mirror.

Will stares at his gorgeous barber trying to figure out what’s happening. _Is he flirting with him_? It’s not often Will gets flirted with so he's not 100% sure, especially with this inscrutable man. All of a sudden this entire encounter is so exhausting that Will makes a decision, deciding to give up, so to speak. If Hannibal can be spontaneous and change from psychiatry to hair cutting, he can ignore the unsolicited psychoanalysis in favor or enjoying receiving the attentions of a very attractive and intelligent man and let the chips fall where they may.

“What if I don't find you that interesting?” Will asks with a smirk, even though he’s sure that's not the case. He is pleased to see blurry Hannibal look surprised for a moment and he thinks, _oh yes, two can play at this game_. A moment later blurry Hannibal is smirking back at him in the mirror. 

“You will,” Hannibal says calmly and confidently, almost like a challenge. _The smug bastard,_ Will thinks. Yet despite himself Will feels something awaken inside of him, feeling more alive than he has in a long time. It’s a shadow of how he feels profiling murderers, the excitement at the wrongness, the forbiddenness. Is he really flirting with a sexy stranger? He is.

“Well, _Hannibal_ ,” Will tries out using the name, the syllables feeling foreign but not unpleasant on his tongue “Before I can _do anything_ , I believe I’m in need of a haircut,” Will says innocently, reveling in the banter. 

Hannibal smiles with his teeth and Will smiles back, feeling wild. “Indeed you do,” Hannibal’s sultry voice responds as he picks up the comb and scissors and gets to work, smile never fully leaving his face. As Hannibal cuts his hair, Will swears he is caressing his head more than is normal. It’s not enough to make an accusation (not that he would anyway), but a ghost of a touch here, a longer than necessary touch there, a little massage here.

In fact it is with the massage that Will’s arousal comes back full force and he sucks in a breath at the tender touches. Will visibly shivers when Hannibal slides the sharp edge of the cold scissors over his skin as he cuts the hair around his ear and at his nape. It’s both dangerous and sensual and Will holds back a moan. This is getting out of control, they’re in a public salon for crying out loud. For a moment Will worries he's overreacting, being a pervert, but he sees Hannibal looks similarly affected by whatever this game is they are playing. Will’s empathy may not give him much information on Hannibal, but he can see the man has glossy eyes, flushed cheeks and a sheen of sweat - all signs of arousal. 

Will’s vivid imagination instantly conjures images of them in all sorts of sexual scenarios, flashing in his mind like a slide projector, until it stops with Hannibal fucking him as he grips Will’s hair tightly. He has to shut his eyes at the thought, unable to look at Hannibal in that moment lest he _really_ embarrass himself. He's hard as a rock now and some combination of embarrassed and horny that is completely inappropriate for where he is and yet also thrilling because of it. 

After a moment he glances again at Hannibal who watches him in turn. Will thinks he sees one blurry eyebrow raised before Hannibal resumes fiddling with his hair. He threads his hair through his fingers, then pinches them closed and lifts, checking the length like before, but this time instead of letting go he grips and pulls hard, almost as if he can read Will’s salacious thought.

Again Will feels like he is being seen, profiled, read like a book, and he would be bothered except it feels too damn good. _God this guy must be great in bed,_ Will thinks, _perception indeed_. Will hopes he gets the chance to experience it first hand. But right now he focuses on turning his partially manifested moan into a discreet clearing of his throat. His skin feels flushed and hot all over and his dick is hard and straining uncomfortably against his pants. He shifts a little in his seat, squirming, trying to subtly alleviate some of the discomfort, all the while Hannibal is watching him, smirking as if he knows his predicament. 

It is then that Hannibal comes around in front of him. “Chin up please” he says in his seductive voice as he presses his pointer finger to Will’s chin. For a moment Will again thinks Hannibal is going to kiss him, but instead (to Will’s disappointment) Hannibal gets to work cutting the front part of his hair. 

Will shuts his eyes against the clippings. He is about to settle into the comfort of the proximity, which surprisingly excites rather than repels, when Hannibal leans against him, presumably to get close enough to cut his hair. Hannibal’s hips rest against Will’s shins, elevated as they are in the salon chair, and instantly Will feels a distinct hardness pressed there that has him letting out a long breath. _Fuck. Shit just got real._ Up until now this could be written off as playful banter, teasing. But this...Hannibal is putting himself at risk, thinks the risk of the game they are playing is worth it. Thinks Will is worth it.

The thought that Hannibal is that turned on by their flirting ratchets Will’s arousal up even higher. Will almost runs the heel of palm down his erection under the smock to take the edge off but he's pretty sure if he starts he won't be able to stop. The scissors continue to clip innocently, alternating with the occasional chill of the cold blade running over his skin causing him to stay perfectly still. The hint of danger makes his arousal that much stronger and he feels nearly overwhelmed with _need_. Never in his thirty four years of life has he ever been this turned on. Eventually the snipping stops and Hannibal stands behind him again.

“I’m going to put some product on your hair and dry it,” Hannibal says calmly, as if he didn’t just have his dick pressed against him. It’s surreal to Will’s already overwhelmed brain.

They are such normal words in an abnormal situation that Will is briefly confused before nodding, saying “Okay,” for lack of a better response.

Hannibal proceeds to spread some goop onto his hair that has yet another scent Will recognizes but can’t quite place - it’s nice, earthy and sweet, but with a hint of musk. As he runs his fingers through his now shorter hair, Hannibal leans against this back, speaking next to his ear. “This leave-in conditioner is made with patchouli oil, Will, do you know what that does?”

“N-no,” Will says, getting whiplash from this game they are playing but he can’t deny he wants Hannibal to keep speaking to him. Yet at the same time he doesn’t because he’s not 100% sure Hannibal couldn’t talk him to orgasm right now. 

“It’s not only good for your hair, and for anxiety...but it also has some...aphrodisiac properties,” Hannibal says quietly, breath warm against his ear. Will barely manages to hold back a moan, having to close his eyes. He’s not sure how to respond to that but thankfully soon the sound of the hair dryer makes him unable to anyway, the loud sound bringing his arousal down to more of a simmer. Once done, Hannibal hands Will his glasses, and when their fingers brush Will feels sparks erupt along his nerve endings. Before Hannibal pulls away he asks next to Will’s ear, “Well, what do you think?” He then continues in a whisper, “Did I give you what you wanted _Will_?” 

Will shivers, flushing, arousal back full force. He nods, not trusting his voice. He glances at himself briefly in the mirror to look at his haircut. _It looks fine._ _It’s shorter. Check_. 

“Excellent.” Hannibal undoes the smock and Will makes sure to keep his hands strategically placed in his lap. “When you're ready I’ll meet you at the register,” Hannibal says, sounding all too pleased. _Smug bastard,_ Will thinks again. Suddenly Will has the desire to rattle him, to see Hannibal come undone the same way he undid him so easily.

Will stands and buttons his coat, thankful that it's long enough to hide the embarrassing tent in his pants as he awkwardly walks to the register where Hannibal is waiting. There are more people in the waiting area now and Will is shocked to see two hours have gone by on the clock. _Fuck._

“That will be $40,” Hannibal says professionally but with a smirk. Will hands over his credit card, briefly worried how to tip. It almost feels like tipping for sex when really all he wants is to see this captivating man again as soon as possible. And alone. 

“Will Graham” Hannibal reads off the card, “I’m Hannibal Lecter,” Hannibal says as he passes the card and receipts back for Will to sign. 

Will smirks as he leaves a generous tips and asks, “Do you have a card?” Back to their games. 

Hannibal's smile is both delighted and dangerous as he says, “Why yes I do.” Will sees Hannibal write on the back of the card then hand it to him. Will writes his own number on the back of his receipt copy, handing both back to Hannibal, looking him in the eye. 

“Thanks Hannibal.”

“Thank you Will, I hope to see you again very soon.”

Will looks down at the card, flips it over, and reads it. In addition to Hannibal’s phone number it says in elegant handwriting ‘ _I’m off in 20 minutes.’_ Will smiles and shakes his head, “You will,” Will replies with a wink of his own as he turns and walks out of the salon. He starts to walk to his car, wondering how he’ll pass twenty minutes, but he stops when he sees a convenience store. He smiles and starts the short walk over, thinking he’ll do some shopping. Because he’s got a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End notes:  
>  \- Eventually I'll do chapter 2 with the smut ;)  
>  \- Dapper house apparently is a real barber shop in Michigan, I just chose it because the stag logo fit so well haha  
>  \- Can you tell I'm into essential oils a little? Lol  
>  \- For the record, I'm not quite as bad as Will with the anxiety of getting my hair cut but I share his overall sentiment that I hate it for many of the same reasons he does #socialanxiety  
>  \- Apologies if any of the hair cutting stuff is incorrect  
>  \- I almost added Hannibal pov but I got lazy sorry, maybe well get some of his pov in chapter 2? 
> 
>   
> 
> 
> ♥ As always I'd love to hear your feedback in a comment below! or hmu [here](https://madsteacup.tumblr.com) on tumblr ^_^ ♥
> 
>   
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> 
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